


It's On The Tip Of My Tongue

by RogueVitki



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gabriel is a jerk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueVitki/pseuds/RogueVitki
Summary: Aziraphale, traitor to Heaven, ex-Principality -There is a matter to discuss. It has been decided to extend an offer to you.I will meet with you in your place of ‘business’, under the truce which hasbeen mandated. Respond promptly.Archangel of the Lord, GabrielYeah, doesn't go over with our boys. Aziraphale upsets poor Gabriel, then Crowley flips the table.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	It's On The Tip Of My Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Whiteley Foster did a sketch, then I did this. It's my first story - be gentle with me.

“Are you out of your tiny angelic little mind? No!” 

Crowley was yelling. Well, bellowing. Aziraphale was fairly sure the volume was dislodging dust from the bookshop’s shelves.

“But, my dear, it’s only a …”

“No! Absolutely not! Under no conceivable, inconceivable or fucking ineffable circumstances! There’s curiosity, and then there’s plain bloody stupidity!”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, dear heart, I think you are possibly getting a tad more worked up than circumstances actually warrant. Now if you …”

The demon threw himself onto the (his!) couch, clamped both hands over his ears, and started chanting “La, la, la, la I can’t heeeeeear yooouuu …”

Aziraphale couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the ridiculous spectacle or lob a cushion at Crowley’s head. Maybe he could put a little English on it and smack the irritating creature right off the couch. In the end, he did neither. He just looked down at the pristine, aggressively white letter in his hand and sighed again. So much for a pleasant afternoon.

************************************************************************************************************

It had been just an hour ago when Aziraphale had ambled down the stairs into the bookshop. He had stayed in bed  _ much _ later than he usually did, and still had a rather satisfied glow about him. He had left coffee within his thoroughly exhausted demon’s reach, and went to his desk to peruse the takeout menus. One had to keep one’s strength up, after all. 

He was opening the drawer when he saw it. 

Stark white envelope, perfect golden calligraphy, reeking of ozone. Just ‘ _ Aziraphale’ _ on the front, in writing that brought back far too many memories, none of them good.

He was still standing there, unmoving, staring at the blessed thing when Crowley came swaggering down the stairs sipping his coffee.

“Hey, angel, whaddya say we just order way too much food and get back into bed for the foreseeable … angel? You ok?”

Then Crowley followed Aziraphale’s sightline and saw the envelope too. Things got a little chaotic at that point, involving hissing, snarling, and an attempt to torch the thing with hellfire that Aziraphale put a  _ very _ decisive stop to by picking Crowley bodily up off the ground, clamping the demon’s arms to his sides and reminding him that the sodding desk was  _ flammable _ . Aziraphale hated bringing  _ that _ memory up, but honestly, Crowley had been working himself into a panic, and it was like dumping a bucket of ice water over the demon’s head - a nasty shock, but effective. He deposited Crowley on the couch, picked up the letter, and sat down next to him.

“Sweetheart, please calm down. Let me just, just  _ look _ at it. It might be nothing at all, just some, ah, informational, um …” 

Crowley had managed to get his breathing under control, and was giving him a complicated look that seemed to blend utter cynicism with a bit of panic. “Really?” he ground out through very pointy teeth.

Aziraphale let go of his fake optimism - he didn’t have to do that any more. He could be honest. He let his face relax into the trepidation he actually felt. “You’re right, love, but we still need to at least look at it - never pass up information and all that.” Crowley made a noise that could be considered assent, and Aziraphale first checked the letter for anything harmful, and upon finding nothing, opened it up. There was a single, folded sheet of paper inside.

  
  


_ Aziraphale, traitor to Heaven, ex-Principality - _

_ There is a matter to discuss. It has been decided to extend an offer to you. _

_ I will meet with you in your place of ‘business’, under the truce which has  _

_ been mandated. Respond promptly. _

_ Archangel of the Lord, Gabriel _

  
  


They both read it, and stared wordlessly at each other for a moment. Crowley found his voice first. “What, and I cannot stress this enough, the  _ FUCK _ is going ON?!”

Aziraphale hummed to himself, tapping the letter against his lower lip. “I suspect they need me for something, either something down here or some face-saving twaddle up there - actually, if it’s the latter, it may be only Gabriel who needs to save face.”

“Well, he can take his face and shove it full fathom deep up his useless fucking arse, if there’s room next to the broomstick! Oh, wait … his head’s already so far up his own arse you can see his halo by looking down his neck. And he’ll never get it out as long as Sandalphon is jammed in there too.”

“Crowley! That’s …” Aziraphale couldn’t help snickering a little. Crowley smiled evilly. 

“You think  _ that’s _ funny … I’ve got looooads more.”

“I have no doubt of that, my dear, but I think perhaps I need to consider this meeting. I would prefer to know what is going on, and since She Herself informed Heaven and Hell that we were to be considered hands-off …” His voice trailed off. Crowley was just  _ staring _ at him …

************************************************************************************************************

So here he was, letter in hand, Crowley being a three-year-old on the couch. But the outcome was never in doubt - they had a certain dynamic, and while Aziraphale tried to never take  _ unreasonable _ advantage of it, he knew that as soon as Crowley was finished  _ venting _ that they would do what Aziraphale thought best.

It took all afternoon, a ridiculous amount of Thai food, a slightly less ridiculous amount of alcohol, and solemn promises from Aziraphale that both angelic and demonic wards would be completely refreshed and that Crowley would never be more than three feet from him during the entire thing. Aziraphale agreed very readily to everything - he was an optimist, not an idiot. He even suggested himself that he keep a saber (Crimean war,  _ very _ sharp) tucked close at hand next to his wings. 

When they were as prepared as they could be, Aziraphale sent a response specifying 10:00am the next morning for the meeting and  _ very _ strongly specifying that  _ only _ Gabriel was to come. Crowley tried to talk him into setting up an angel-trapping circle, but Aziraphale just kissed him quiet and dragged him up to bed. 

************************************************************************************************************

The next morning everything was a bit … tense. Aziraphale kept making and abandoning cups of tea until Crowley collected them all, poured them into a pitcher with far too much sugar and stuck it in the refrigerator, threatening to make Aziraphale drink  _ iced tea _ later. Crowley himself had not touched a single drop of coffee, but was vibrating as though he had knocked back a quadruple shot of espresso. The time seemed to move like cold treacle, until suddenly it didn’t and it was 10:00am. 

Gabriel didn’t knock - of course he didn’t. Aziraphale was standing under the cupola, with as much space around him as was possible in the shop. Crowley was in his place on Aziraphale’s left, just enough room between them that Aziraphale could draw his sword if needed, but close enough that he could mutter “smarmy wanker” in Aziraphale’s ear as Gabriel strode in.

Gabriel marched up to them with his usual too-quick stride, as though he had somewhere better to be after this. He started to hold out a hand with a smile that would have looked fake on a mannequin, but hesitated and pulled it back when he saw the utterly cold look in Aziraphale’s eyes and the fiery threat in Crowley’s. It was a fleeting moment, but Gabriel looked slightly wrong-footed, and Crowley felt just a tiny bit better.

Of course Gabriel spoke first. “So, Aziraphale, buddy! Good to see you! How’s it been going?”

Aziraphale calmly considered the archangel, tilting his head to the side a little, before he replied. “You mean, how has it been going since you tried to murder me without a trial, then wouldn’t back off until She demoted you and put Michael in charge and told Heaven and Hell to, ah, ‘knock it off’? Quite well, actually - thank you for asking.” 

And Aziraphale  _ smiled _ , that smug little bastard smile that Crowley adored. And Crowley suddenly realized - Gabriel looked  _ worried _ . 

“Great! Yeah, heh, well, you know, water under the bridge, lessons learned, all that. No point in holding grudges when you’ve got all eternity, right? And on that note,” Gabriel seemed to be pulling himself together a bit, “I’m here with an offer! Real forgive-and-forget kinda thing!”

He flicked a glance at Crowley. “It, uh, it only involves  _ you _ , Aziraphale, no need for your … pet to be involved here … so yeah, if you’ve got some place a bit more private to talk ...”

At this point, Crowley had already had quite enough and the hissing was getting  _ loud _ . But Aziraphale just reached out and took his hand, and fixed Gabriel with his most quelling look and said “Anything you say to me, you will say in front of both of us,  _ politely _ , and you will say it standing right here.”

Crowley couldn’t decide what made him happier in that moment - Aziraphale talking to Gabriel like that,  _ while holding his hand _ , or the look of frustrated anger on Gabriel’s face. Crowley was feeling safer by the moment - Gabriel was obviously on the back foot here, and hated it. Crowley was still vibrating with nerves, though, and almost without realizing, another old habit asserted itself - he let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and started pacing. He couldn’t do a full circle with Gabriel there, but he just slowly covered the arc behind Aziraphale, drifting back and forth. He saw Aziraphale relax minutely, the comfort of the old protective pattern settling in - and was happy to see that it was definitely irritating Gabriel. Good.

Aziraphale was uncharacteristically quiet, forcing Gabriel to pick up the thread of the conversation. 

“So, ok, fine, here’s the thing.” Gabriel spread his arms out, palms up, as though he were about to bestow something wonderful. “We all talked about it, and we’re willing to  _ forgive  _ you! You can come  _ home _ ! Full reinstatement, no recriminations - we understand, we left you on earth too long, obviously, a, a,  _ fling _ like this could happen to any angel! Just say your goodbyes, and … um …” Gabriel ground to a halt, having finally looked at Aziraphale long enough to see the expression on his face. It was  _ wrathful _ . His eyes were starting to glow.

“Gabriel, I  _ am _ home. I live  _ here _ , with the person I love. And I don’t for an  _ instant _ believe that you do not have some, some  _ personal motive _ here. Tell me, or leave. Now.”

Gabriel was looking a bit wrathful himself, but nowhere near as calm as Aziraphale. Crowley thought he actually looked a bit flustered. “Fine! FINE! You want to know why? Why I’m  _ demeaning _ myself to even  _ talk _ to you? Because I can’t get my Her-given  _ position _ back unless you get your miserable traitorous butt back up there and admit you were wrong, and  _ forgive _ me!”

Aziraphale tilted his head the other way and smiled. “But Gabriel - I am perfectly willing to forgive you - just as soon as you repent. After all, there’s no point in forgiving someone who does not think they did anything wrong. Are you sorry you tried to murder me in secret?”

Crowley thought he might actually be damaging some of his fortunately-unnecessary internal organs trying to not laugh at the look on Gabriel’s face. He looked like a debutante that had just had a dog pee all over her dress. Priceless. 

Gabriel finally managed to find his words. “This is RIDICULOUS! You need to STOP with this stupid, childish GAME of playing at being HUMAN, and come back and put things RIGHT! YOU BELONG TO HEAVEN AND YOU ARE GONNA START ACTING LIKE IT!”

Crowley had no real explanation for what happened next. The fact that Gabriel was ranting like a four-year-old was pretty good evidence that he wasn’t allowed to do anything to them. And Aziraphale seemed to have gone into momentary shock at the spectacle of a red-faced Gabriel throwing a tantrum. The whole ‘belong to Heaven’ bit. The situation just … demanded something with  _ flair _ . Crowley was already right behind Aziraphale, so all he had to do was lean in. He unfurled his tongue, the full, snakey length of it, and dragged it up the side of Aziraphale’s face in a long, sloppy, wet lick. Complete with slurping noise.

Everything stopped.

Aziraphale’s eyes went as wide as saucers, his eyebrows scrunched down, and he grimaced. Gabriel’s eyes got pretty wide too, and he made a choking noise, then, thankfully, shut up. Crowley straightened up next to Aziraphale with a smug look, as Aziraphale slowly turned and looked at him, a bit shocked, a bit ‘what the  _ hell’ _ ?

“Crowley? What …? Why …?”

Crowley smirked. “He said you belonged to Heaven. But everybody knows the rule. If you lick it, it’s yours.” His voice dropped into a bit of a growl and he locked eyes with Aziraphale. “I licked you. You’re  _ mine. _ ”

Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s eyes as a beautiful pink blush bloomed on his face. At first all he could get out was a breathy little “ _ Oh  _ …” Then, never even looking at Gabriel, he said “I think you have your answer, Gabriel. I haven’t belonged to Heaven for a  _ very _ long time. I suppose you’ll have to work your way back up - but please don’t bother us again, or I’ll have to have a talk with Michael about you.” 

There was a strangled noise from Gabriel’s general direction, then heavy footsteps and the slam of the door. Aziraphale didn’t watch him go … but Crowley did. There are some sights that you just know you’re gonna treasure for a while. And then, as he was grabbed by the hand and dragged upstairs by a breathless angel, he knew there are some sights you’re gonna treasure  _ forever. _


End file.
